Page 16 of The Thirteenth Count

“My mother. She and Father were talking quietly to each other, and—” She gave Fern a small, guilty grin. “—naturally I listened in.”

“Go on,” Fern urged, even Sprout leaned in as if to listen.

“After what happened back then, Tiberius died, sudden-like.” Elise drew a shaky breath. “No one talks about why, and the seat was left open for… High Blackwell.”

“That is odd…” Fern thought for a moment. “Nothing about Th⁠—”

“Don’t.” Elise’s voice cut through the cold air like a blade.

Fern’s lips snapped shut. Heat flooded her cheeks. She hadn’t even meant to say the word—just the beginning of it—and already her heart thudded against her chest like she’d done something unforgivable.

“My parents warned me that any mention of… that… would mean death,” Elise whispered.

“Ugh.” Fern scrubbed her face. “This is all so frustrating.”

“I’m sorry, Fern. I wish I had more to offer. Truly I just wanted to see how you’re holding up. Stemblood… how exciting.”

“It’s hard to feel excited, considering everything,” Fern mumbled then looked at her friend. “I am glad you came, though. I needed this.” She gripped Elise’s hand. “But enough about me. Tell me about you. It’s been too long since we were able to meet up like this. Are you still seeing Heinrik?”

Elise turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. “He… he asked for a Bonding.”

Fern’s eyes widened, her breath catching. “Elise… that’s—by the Mother, that’s wonderful.” She squeezed her friend’s hand harder, a smile breaking through her worries. “Truly. I’m so happy for you.”

Elise looked down, flustered. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do.” Fern nudged her shoulder. “Heinrik adores you. And you’ve been pining over him since the Harvest Festival two years ago.” She clapped her hands together. “I can’t believe it. No more Elise Fletcher. I hope you’ve brushed up on your baking skills.”

“I may become a Baker by name, but you’ll not see these hands in any dough!”

Elise laughed—soft, real.

It eased something in Fern’s chest.

When the laughter settled, her smile dimmed a little. “I wish I could be there for it,” Fern whispered. “For all of it.”

Elise’s expression softened. “You will be,” she insisted quickly. “Stemblood or not—Fern, we’ll still find time. We’ll still find a way.”

Fern nodded, though she wasn’t sure she believed it.

But pretending it might be possible was enough, for now.

“I should head back before the bells.” Elise rose to her feet. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Fern stood with her, brushing moss from her dress. “I… I think they may come for me tomorrow. To take me to the second tier.”

Elise sniffled, hugging Fern tightly. Neither wanted to be the first to let go.

When Elise finally stepped away, she offered a trembling smile. “Goodnight, Fern. And good luck.”

Fern watched her slip back through the trees until the fog swallowed her shape.

Only then did she exhale.

Familiar bronze peals rolled across Ashford Cross, coaxing Fern from a restless, broken sleep.

Sprout was curled against the small of her back, paws twitching as he burrowed deeper beneath the blanket. Fern almost let herself sink back into the warmth beside him.

Then yesterday returned, crashing over her. She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as she remembered.